


Total

by electronic_tragedy



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF, Kavinsky (Musician)
Genre: Action & Romance, Cussing, M/M, Mentions of Sex, and actual sex later, the ocs are kavinskys girlfriend and the antagonist, the sex that happens isnt gonna be explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2233227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_tragedy/pseuds/electronic_tragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian leaves Paris for a short tour in America. Things get complicated after he meets a strange man named Kavinsky. On the other hand, Kavinsky is left alone when he realizes his old girlfriend has moved on.</p><p>The two click, and their desire for one another flourishes.</p><p>But one of Kavinsky's old enemies rises again, and threatens to take everything he holds dear down in a plot for revenge-- With Sebastian now being one of them.<br/>His tour then becomes and arms race of danger, through thugs and even police.<br/>Is this man even worth it all?</p><p>When everything adds up, what is the total?</p><p>CURRENTLY ON INDEFINITE HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Embody

**Author's Note:**

> I got nothing much to say other than I hope you enjoy this fanfic!
> 
> This fic is dedicated to the fact that this ship is great but there is not that much material for it.

Before his show in a coastal town, Sebastian shared a smoke with a stranger.

The dark-haired DJ forgot his own pack at the airport, when he was still suffering from jet lag. He had to go awhile without a pack, since his show was around 2 hours after his arrival. He cursed as he sat in a hotel-called taxi to the club. There was no time to go to a drug store and pick up even a cheap pack. Damn the airport delay. Damn jet lag too. The only crutch he relied on was the possibility for alcohol- it would probably help for a bit.

Sebastian didn’t dare to speak with the other DJs before the show. Withdrawal was kicking in full throttle. The DJ wanted to yank a cigarette out of someone’s mouth and take a long drag.  

The club he would perform in was hot from the many bodies packed inside. He felt like suffocating. Although the thickened smoky air helped curve his need for a cigarette, he wanted to get out.

Sebastian downed half a solo cup of horribly watered down beer, and made his way toward the back of the darkened venue.

With quick words to a backstage door guard and a stage hand, the DJ broke out of the club. The cold coastal air enveloped him. He took in a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “Fucking shit.” He mumbled, wiping his face. He unzipped his black jacket to let in the bitter cold. He grimaced. The pale man plopped himself down onto a step leading to the parking lot.  His hand reached for a nonexistant pack in his jacket. He cursed. Damn habit. He put his face in his hands.

Sebastian heard a series of footsteps coming toward him. A masculine voice asked, “Hey, when does the show start?”

Noticing this person used English, he used his best. “Fuck should I know or care.”

He heard the man walk up to him. “You need a smoke or something?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian mumbled once again. “I left my goddamn pack at the-” He pulled his head out, and looked up at the man speaking to him.

In his hand was a long cigarette. _Hallelujah_.

The gray-haired man at his side wore sunglasses – even though it was two hours past midnight. With the only the glance Sebastian got, he looked like a grown-up teenager.  Sebastian didn’t care a bit less as he took a long drag with him. “I feel so fucking guilty. But it’s so good.” The words fell out of his mouth. So relieved to feel the smoke giving him everything he’s wanted. In the past few hours, actually.

The gray-haired man grinned. “Better than sex?”

“Uh, at this second, yeah.” Sebastian nodded. The heat from the cigarette in his lungs and the cold on his skin gave a pleasurable feeling. Even though it was a long time since his last time underneath sheets, this definitely felt close to it.

Sebastian checked his watch. He’s supposed to be on in around 20 minutes. He heard the booming bass from beyond the back door, so the show has started.

“You here for the show?” The strange man asked.

“Yeah.” Sebastian exhaled his last smoke cloud. He dropped his cigarette. He watched it plummet onto the parking lot concrete. He rested his arms on some railing. “I’m supposed to be on soon.”

“No shit.” The stranger leaned his back on the railing. “What’s your stage name?”

“Uh, it’s Sebastian. It’s also my name.” He shrugged. “Original, I know.”

“Nice.” The gray-haired stranger nodded. He held a hand out. “Kavinsky.”

Sebastian shook Kavinsky’s hand. “Cool name.”

Once they let go, a man popped out from the backstage door. “Seb, they want you on. This DJ is sucking major balls. They’re calling for you.”

Kavinsky smiled at Sebastian. “Are you good?”

“You’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

The DJ who went first must have been not just sucking major balls, but probably was doing it on the turntables. The sweaty crowd was about to start a riot. They were booing and some liquid was spilled on the floor.

Kavinsky patted Sebastian’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

“I can handle it.” He replied. Kavinsky nodded before disappearing into the crowd. Sebastian stepped up onto a platform where the equipment sat. The table was high above everyone. It was as if Sebastian was going to preach the good word of electronic music to these rowdy Americans.

A person went to his side to give him his records. Sebastian chose a couple of them. He worked quickly to get ready. After his smoke he was in a better mood. _Oh dammit, I forgot to thank him._ Someone handed him a pair of headphones. He looked up, and made a sweep with his eyes across the venue. No sign of him. _Whatever, I’ll talk to him later_.

Sebastian was ready. Usually he’d ask the audience if they’re having a good time but that’s not apparent. He might as well start playing right away. He started the mixing machine up. Time to begin. But first, what to play? He’d better cut to the chase with this bloodthirsty crowd. To play it safe, He decided to play one of his recent hits, “ _Embody”_ to go first. He set in the record.

Once the song shot through the speakers and the lighting guy caught up, the crowd’s mood changed.

Sebastian captured them in his trance, led them with the steady beat, and left them in motion. The magic thing about music was its ability to control people, the one thing Sebastian couldn’t do in his whole life. He began to move his whole body as he manipulated his song. He was feeling it tonight.

Some point through, he looked up, and saw that there was an anomaly. Someone stuck out from the moving crowd. He caught sight of Kavinsky, who wasn’t moving at all save for his head. He was fairly close to the set table, so Sebastian could make him out. An odd smile was on his face.

Kavinsky then caught the DJ’s own gaze. Sebastian shot a quick smile at the man. He owed him one. If it weren’t for this strange man, the venue would be in flames. He returned to his work.

He continued onto the next song. Soon enough, time seemed to fly by as Sebastian went through the next vinyl. An hour and a half passed and he was done.

 

* * *

 

The hero of the night mingled among the others, with a new alcoholic drink in his hand. He kept taking sips as several people welcomed him, thanked him, and praised him. Sebastian went through endless waves of kind words on a regular basis. But telling by these people’s reactions, he probably saved the show.

But Sebastian had no friends here, no one to talk to. None of his friends in Paris had time to accompany him on his short tour. _Whatever, it’s only three weeks_ , he thought then.

Sebastian hoped that he was still there, somewhere among the crowd. He spotted his new friend fast. The man stuck out like a sore thumb. With those sunglasses and his confident and calm demeanor, he wasn’t like the other drunken or high club-goers.

He ran right into him. “Hey man.” The DJ had to raise his voice over the incessant chatter of the club.

“Good stuff. I swear I heard your music before.” Kavinsky said, punching him playfully in the shoulder. His head turned to face the back of the venue. “Do you have any friends?”

He shook his head. “Not here. I live in Paris. They’re all there.”

“Good ‘cause we can go out back again.”

Kavinsky was a godsend. Sebastian liked the club scene, but he preferred being around people he knew. This man will be his little American friend for now.

The two sat on the back staircase, both with beers in hand. They toasted one another. “For good music.” Kavinsky proposed, raising his bottle.

“For the cigarette relief.” Sebastian said, meeting his new friend’s bottle. The two then took a synchronized swig. This new drink was more refreshing. “No man, thanks a lot for the cigarette. I’m a huge addict.”

“Well, I am too. You’re in good company.”

Sebastian snickered. Silence then returned, other than the muffled bass that vibrated through the back door. Crickets chirped and the echoes of the distant highway filled the air. Paris was never this quiet. It was too quiet.  Sebastian lived in constant noise- whether it is music or the chatter of people around him. He had to break the silence. “So, Kavinsky, what brings you here?”

“I like music.”

“Who doesn’t like music?”

“Alright, I had nothing else to do.” He set the bottle down, and rested his arms on his bent knees. “Thought I could come by for a bit.”

“Right.” Sebastian put the bottle to his lips again. His eyes went to the other man. The DJ now had the time to fully scope out his whole look.

Kavinsky didn’t look half bad. His graying hair made him look older than he probably was. He wore a red and white varsity jacket with a red embroidered ‘K’. That was a little weird. The whole grown-up teenager looked good on him- as if he had a cocky attitude that most jocks had. The whole sunglasses-at-night was cool, but weird. His physique was something for sure. Especially his _shoulders_. Sebastian didn’t want to admit it, but he would love to see how he’d move in bed-

He shook the thoughts out. It was probably the alcohol thinking. It normally distorts other’s attractiveness.  “So, what’s with your sunglasses?” He said aloud.

Kavinsky said, “Medical reasons.”

“A-huh.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe how strange he was. Who names their kid Kavinsky anyways? There has to be some sort of secret behind him. Asking for it won’t help for sure. The pale DJ went on to ask him questions, but his answers seemed normal. He was on the football team in high school, which explained the jacket. He figured the gray-haired man was another EDM groupie. A _unique_ groupie at that. The two continued to drink away at their American beer as they spoke. Soon, the bottles went empty. 

The gray-haired man asked, “So, is this your first time here?”

“Yeah. I’ve been to some crazy sets before, but these people…” Sebastian trailed off.

“Americans are a bit different.”

Sebastian threw a quick glance at the man. “ _I’ll say_.” He muttered.

Silence again. The insects continued, and the echoes of the distant city prevailed. But the booming bass was gone. In fact, there were fewer cars in the parking lot. How long were they sitting there?

“Damn, what time is it?” Sebastian pulled out and checked his phone. It was low on battery and it was nearing 4 am. “Fuck, it’s late.” He stood up.

“You’re gonna leave?” Kavinsky stood as well.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna stay much longer. I got nothing left to do here.” The DJ put the phone into his back pocket. “I also gotta get some cigs. Dammit, I don’t think a cab is gonna stop at a market or some shit.”

“I’ll give you a ride.” The gray-haired man said.

“No shit? No, man, I owe you already.” Sebastian waved him off.

“You don’t owe me anything. Your set was great, that’s all I needed.” Kavinsky reached into his pocket. He pulled out a couple cigarettes out of a pack. “Don’t crush them.”

Sebastian was ready to get down on one knee. “You’re a life saver, Kav.” He lunged for the sticks. “Not even my friends are this nice.” At a single moment, a switch flipped in his mind. He furrowed his brow. “Are you being nice because…” 

A subtle smile formed on Kavinsky’s face. “No, but yeah, I go both ways.” He patted the man on the shoulder as he walked towards the parking lot. “C’mon, it’s better we get there now.”

That was unexpected. Sebastian shook off the thoughts of what happened and followed.

 

* * *

 

The mystery of Kavinsky got even more confusing.

A Ferrari Testarossa was his ride. Red and retro, it was enough to put Sebastian in shock beyond words. The owner himself almost laughed at his expression alone.

Sebastian got in the passenger seat. “Ok, can I ask you something, Kavinsky?”

The gray-haired man got in and started the car. “Hit me.”

The pale DJ narrowed his eyes. “What are you?” In reply, the other man snickered. “I’m being serious, man.”

“Am I that odd?” Kavinsky put his hand on the top of the wheel.

“Well, for starters, your outfit. The sunglasses. This car.” Sebastian turned to him. “What’s up with you?”

Kavinsky’s demeanor changed as his smile faded. “I would tell you, but we barely know each other.” He pulled out of the parking space. “I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

 So there is something about him. “I know I owe you one. I’ll suspend my doubt.” Sebastian leaned back. “If it’s too personal, you don’t have to. Whatever it is.”

The man sighed. “Alright. But first, do you want to go to a store or-”

“Ah, my hotel. It’s off of the pacific coast highway near the city. I’ll tell you when I see it.”

Kavinsky maneuvered the sports car onto a quiet highway, headed straight into the still-lit city. After a quick minute in silence, Sebastian spoke up. “Ok, let’s hear it.”

A beat as the mystery man pondered. “I died. Back in 1986. I’m not sure how, but this car is connected to me. I’m immortal, some kind of zombie or ghost. I found out that most injury that can hurt a person doesn’t hurt me. At least, most of the time. After these 20 years, I think I’m a wandering spirit of sorts. I’ve become an urban legend in this area.”

Sebastian looked at the man. After processing his words, the DJ busted out laughing. He laughed mostly out of how ridiculous it sounded. What did Kavinsky think he is? Some kind of 80’s superhero? “Oh my God, that’s the best thing I heard all night.” He slapped the man’s shoulder. The man smiled a bit.

“You think that’s my best joke?” Kavinsky asked.

“You were all serious which made it better. Do you watch a lot of old movies or something?”

“I suppose so.” Kavinsky turned his attention back on the highway. They were going 70 mph, bounded into the city. Both of them had nothing else to say. Thus, there was only the hum of the engine of the Testarossa.

Sebastian surveyed the outside. The highway was mostly empty save for a truck or two. He looked back at the man on his left. His shoulders were slouched, his face framed in melancholy. The DJ turned away, and sighed. Something troubled Kavinsky.

Sebastian didn’t want to worry about it now. He’d only known this man for a couple of hours. Other than the human desire to spend the night with him, Sebastian had no reason to pry anymore into Kavinsky’s personal life. He was probably some retro car restoration guy who loved 80’s nostalgia. He probably liked the DJ too, so he made up a story to impress him. _Immortal zombie. How silly._

The dark-haired DJ sprung up. He pointed out the next exit. For the rest of the drive, he navigated Kavinsky to where his hotel was.

In less than two minutes, the Testarossa pulled up to the front of the high-rise hotel. Sebastian hopped out and thanked Kavinsky numerous times, for the cigarettes and for hanging out with him. The man waved it off. The pale man said his goodbye and began to walk towards the building.

“Wait, when’s your next show?” Kavinsky shouted out the window.

 The DJ swiveled around. “Oh, uh, tomorrow night. Or, actually, tonight. It’s on the edge of the city, I think on 4th street.” The DJ scratched the back of his head. “I forgot what the place is called. It’s a bar. Show starts at 11.”

“Great. I’d love to see you play again.”

“Me too, man.” Sebastian caught what he said. “Fuck, I mean, to see you again.”

“I know what you meant. See you.” Kavinsky rolled up the window. The DJ gave him a small wave goodbye.

Sebastian turned and walked into the hotel smiling. The engine rev of the Testarossa sounded off, and echoed through his memory.


	2. Odd Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20 years after his death, Kavinsky sees someone old--and someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took way too long. It had to be perfect, ok?   
> I'd like to thank a certain beta reader who stuck with me through this and giving me good ideas to work with! Without them, there would be an entirely different chapter here.
> 
> This also includes a Kavinsky-didn’t-tell-his-girlfriend-about-him-being-alive-and-dead-at-first AU, for 20 years for drama and plot reasons.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 2: Odd Look

 

On a Friday Night, Kavinsky drove in the Mars-colored Testarossa. He had no desire to sleep since his death, so he would spend entire nights driving. The car never ran out of gas either, so there was no loss.

He drove aimlessly down the highways of the pacific coasts, sometimes through the forested cliff roads. Sometimes he'd go through the city streets. Sometimes he'd make trouble with the police for kicks.

It was only recently he ran a cop over. After a heated one-on-one chase with an off-duty officer, Kavinsky figured he was too much trouble to out run. As a result, when the local police found the officer’s body, the media exploded.  One Sheriff even demanded for the “Dead Cruiser” to be found and arrested. The man himself laughed at the claim. No way could any cop catch _him_.

But he decided to keep out of the city and main highways as a precaution.  He went down into a suburban area, only matching the low speed limit.

The blocks he passed had two-story homes, the perfect size for families. He glanced at each front window, catching sight of parents and their children at the dining room table, having dinner. Kavinsky sighed. Another possibility wasted.

 Soon enough he passed his old high school. Kavinsky didn’t even give it a passing glance. Past the mid-90’s, he chose to not visit it anymore. They renovated the exterior from the old brick to the entrance. Some point they changed the name. It wasn’t his school anymore.

Kavinsky watched as his world changed around him. If he died back in the canyon all those years ago, he wouldn’t have to bear with this.

The Dead Cruiser got used to it. It was a dull pain now.

But it returned.

He slowed to a stop in front of traffic cones. The street ahead was in rubble, with several yellow machines suspended in the growing dark. Construction. He huffed and prepared to turn around. He looked up, and gazed through a window of a house on the corner of the block. Kavinsky passed it off as a regular one, but something caught his eye.

There was a woman, brown and flowing hair, with a delicate figure. She seemed to be in a joyful mood. Kavinsky put the Testarossa in reverse to get a better view. The woman had a place somewhere in his memory.

As the woman looked up, it clicked. The Dead Cruiser’ eyes widened and he mouthed, “Catherine.”

She was the girl he dated for two years in high school, the girl that stood by his side when a bully kicked him to the ground, the only girl he kissed... And the only person he swore who would’ve missed him the most when he died. Her gentle face gave it away.

His heart leapt and was about to burst out the car door. He stopped abruptly. Catherine picked up a small boy and smiled at him.

It’s been 20 years and yet this came as a shock to him. Of course she would be married by now, _with kids_ even. And yet, a familiar pain singed in his chest.

When he realized he was dead-and-alive, he chose to stray away from everyone he knew. Even though it pained him, he couldn’t bear to see Catherine again. He didn’t even want to go to his own funeral. To everyone, he was dead in the canyon. By then, they moved on.

Kavinsky did too. To numb the pain of his grief, he made himself into an urban legend, the Dead Cruiser. He became the hero he aspired to be. 

The familiar pain surfaced again, and reminded the man that he used to be human. Not an unfeeling, mysterious ghost of a reckless teenager. Of all people, it would be her to make him remember.

He watched her for a time, and wondered if she even remembered him. She seemed jubilant around her son, more so than he’d ever seen. Kavinsky grunted and fiddled with his gloves. Catherine deserved this. But she got this happiness through another person- possibly a man who treated her better than he ever did. The gray-haired ghost should have been happy for her, but it was the pain of guilt that stopped him.

Was it too late to apologize?

Catherine looked up through the window, and locked eyes with Kavinsky. In surprise, he hit the accelerator. The gear was still in reverse, so the car flew backward.

He figured she would be confused at what occurred and investigate. She did it back in high school. When a slam was heard in the hallways, Catherine would stop and go towards the noise. She was protective of the bullied- he was one of them.

Kavinsky pulled the Ferrari into a space against the sidewalk. He set it in park, and watched as his old love step out of her home.  Her figure was less petite now since she had children. But she still had her grace.

Catherine looked up and down the street, looking for whoever peeled backward. She wrapped her bare arms around her, and shivered. After some time, she went back into her house.

The Dead Cruiser gathered courage. He had no choice now but to show himself. Maybe in the process, he could use this time to explain everything to her. But it was useless hope- and deep down, he knew it.

He got out of the car and went to her door.

 

Adrenaline ran high and it shook Kavinsky to his core. He walked up her front steps and found himself at her door. Twenty long years he was away. He expected anything from her. The world had changed, and it’s a big chance Catherine has as well.

The Dead Cruiser rang the doorbell. He exhaled sharply. No turning back now.

After about a minute, the door opened. Catherine was in light-colored sleepwear. Her hair was shoulder-length and as curly as it was in 1986. Her kind eyes looked up at him, confused. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m sorry about my car-” He forced a small laugh as he looked behind him at his car.

“Oh, so you were the one that…” She nodded shyly. The woman noticed the man’s strange behavior. “Do you need help?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I just- wanted to let you know. I saw you look outside, so.” Kavinsky stepped back, in a gesture to leave. “Sorry for bothering you.” She doesn’t seem to remember. It seems fairly evident. At least he had the chance to talk to her again.

Catherine replied, “No, it’s alright- wait… You look familiar.” The gray-haired man stopped in his tracks.  “Who are you?” She asked. Kavinsky took a glance behind her. Her child was gone. “I mean, I swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”

Kavinsky held the door open, and his whole tone changed.  “Don’t you remember?”

He watched as she tried to figure out who or what he was. “I can’t put my finger on it.” She began to turn to close the door, but the light bulb memory hit her. Her eyes widened. “Kavinsky?”

She did remember after all. Ecstatic, he stepped forward. Her next words stopped him in his tracks. “Wait, b-but- you’re dead. How can you-”

He almost pleaded with her, “Catherine, I’m still here. I’ve been here all this time.”

“No, no.” She shook her head. She seemed dazed as she stepped back. “Then- what are you?”

“I’m-“ Kavinsky stopped. He wasn’t alive. He wasn’t quite dead either. What _was_ he? There wasn’t a true term for his kind. “I don’t know.”

Catherine seemed to shrink. She appeared petrified. “Please go, whatever you are.” She began to close the door, but Kavinsky’s grip was stronger.

“No, I can explain.” The gray-haired man thought, looking for words. “Do you know of this guy- who races police? Drives a red car?”

“Well, yes.” The woman replied. She shifted in place. “But what does he have to do with-

“I’m him.” Kavinsky choked out and pointed to himself, “I’m the Dead Cruiser. Ever since I- left, I had to do it. Catherine, I never really died.” He begged, “I couldn’t tell you, because you wouldn’t understand.”

His old girlfriend was at a loss for words. She tried to process everything as she was silent for some time.

“Catherine, please understand.” Kavinsky stepped through the threshold, and reached out to cup her face. His voice became lighter, “It’s all I ask.” He leaned closer to her.

The woman swatted the arm away. She said through grit teeth, “Please go.” She then shoved him away. The Dead Cruiser stumbled back outside, in shock. When he opened his mouth to speak, she continued, “I don’t care about what happened. You shouldn’t be here nor come back like this. I don’t know what’s going on- or if this is some kind of sick joke… But go.”

Kavinsky exhaled. Catherine locked eyes with him. He had one last move. “If you think this is a joke, it’s all real.” He removed his sunglasses. His eyes burned a crimson red. “Believe me.”

She flinched, and shouted, “Go away!” The door slammed.

Kavinsky stood at her door for a solid minute before turning to leave.

 

The gray-haired man shut the car door behind him, and started the engine. He glanced at her house, and slammed on the accelerator. He figured he’d better do something good for the both of them by listening to her and leave her alone.

 

* * *

 

In times like this, when he needed to calm down or hide, Kavinsky reserved a special spot just outside the city. When the he first found the place, he used it as a hiding spot away from police. It was only accessible through the powers of the Testarossa.

 For some time, he drove down an empty road. As he progressed, the amount of trees amplified, so not even the stars were visible. With no street lights, only the headlights of his car led the way. He was outside of city limits by then. Soon, he found his exit.

It was a beaten road that was blocked off by a wooden fence that warned, “DO NOT ENTER”. Kavinsky drummed his fingers against the wheel. The car turned, and phased through the fence. It was the only plus of being part ghost.  He reappeared, but did the trick once more when he came upon a large fallen oak tree. The thing was 100 years old, and it was still in decomposition. The perfect roadblock.

The Dead Cruiser continued up a forested hill. The car jerked and rumbled onward on the path. There were rocks on the ground to stop anymore plant growth, but the covering would destroy many tires.

But once the incline lessened, Kavinsky caught sight of a clearing. He parked, and hopped out.

The clearing had no trees, just dirt and a couple of rocks. That wasn’t what made the place special- it was the view. The city was in focus. The copious blue and white lights were man-made stars. The skyscrapers themselves were beacons of light. The place was only special in the night and at sunset.

Kavinsky sat at the edge of the clearing, and let his legs dangle off the cliff.  He peered over the edge, which was a sea of tree tops and protruding stones. It would be a hard fall. The gray-haired man then pulled out a cigarette and lighter. He might as well enjoy this time. He took in his surroundings in order to forget about his old love.

The Dead Cruiser watched as the world stirred around him. The barely visible stars moved above. The sounds of the forest transitioned - from the light buzz to the full onslaught of forest insects. The echo of the main highway even lessened in intensity.

The man sat for a long time.

His initial objective failed. Kavinsky still festered over Catherine- she was the only thing on his mind. He also got bored. Sitting in silence was fun only for an hour. He sighed, and hopped back into the car. With a quick glance at his clock, the gray-haired man realized how much time has passed.

Nontheless, he had a new activity in mind to get his mind off.

 

* * *

 

In times like this, Kavinsky went to clubs or bars. He drove to the nearest club, and decided on it. He had gone to this particular one before, and the music mostly didn’t disappoint. He remembered someone whispered that a foreign artist was going to play that night. Perfect.

The parking lot was packed, but Kavinsky managed to find one in the back. He made his way towards the front of the club, but he caught sight of a man on the back steps. Usually only the DJs used the back door. The man seemed to be in agony, or tired. It was probably some combination.

He decided that the man needed some help, but as he walked up the back steps, he didn’t think this man would change the course of his night.

His name was Sebastian, and the two hit it off right away.

Although the foreign DJ was skeptical and suspicious of the Dead Cruiser the whole night -to the point of him spilling his identity-  they still trusted each other as longtime friends would.

The night was filled with the music Sebastian made, the beer, Kavinsky’s expensive cigarettes, and the words spoken between them.

The night was special.

* * *

 

Later that night, the Testarossa pulled up to the front of the high-rise hotel. Sebastian hopped out and thanked Kavinsky numerous times, for cigarettes and for hanging out with him. The man waved it off. The pale man said his goodbye and began to walk towards the building.

The gray-haired man couldn’t help but grin as he left. The time they shared together was refreshing for him. He hadn’t spent some quality time with someone in a long time. He was by himself and his thoughts for _years_ on end. All the people he’d interacted with were strangers (both male and female), police, and petty criminals.

Likewise, Kavinsky hoped something else would come out about their budding relationship. Talking one-on-one for a couple of hours would make anyone want something else. He felt that Sebastian wanted it too. He didn’t know when they’d say it out loud to one another. That step took time.

But he wanted to feel The DJ’s skin. He wanted to feel the man’s lips against his. Other carnal thoughts stirred in his mind. It was almost shocking to Kavinsky. But these thoughts surfaced after Catherine’s rejection. He knew that.

Other than his old girlfriend, it was Sebastian that reminded the Dead Cruiser that he was once human.

Catherine was out of sight, and out of mind. He wanted to keep it that way.

A new thought went through Kavinsky’s mind. He rolled down the passenger window and shouted at the DJ, “Wait, when’s your next show?”

 Sebastian swiveled around. “Oh, uh, tomorrow night. Or, actually, tonight. It’s on the edge of the city, I think on 4th street.” He scratched the back of his head. “I forgot what the place is called. It’s a bar. Show starts at 11.”

Kavinsky knew of the place at an instant. Thugs and low-lifes liked to hang out around there. He had to go not only to listen to his music again, but maybe watch Sebastian’s back. “Great. I’d love to see you play again.”

“Me too, man.” Sebastian caught what he said. “Fuck, I mean, to see you again.”

“I know what you meant. See you.” Kavinsky flashed a grin and rolled up the window. The DJ gave him a small wave goodbye.

As the Dead Cruiser shifted his gears and hit the accelerator a new hope rose in Kavinsky’s soul- that Sebastian would be permanent in his life.

All he thought about was the soon rising sun- and seeing him again.

He was content for once.


	3. Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian learns the truth about Kavinsky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this fic!!
> 
> Includes: masturbation, derogatory terms, and basically everything in the previous chapters.  
> Comments are most appreciated!

Sebastian knew his sleep schedule was shot when he woke up to the setting sun in his eyes.

The curtain he drawn in his hotel room let a sliver of light in. Where the DJ was positioned, the sun hit his eye.

Sebastian groaned and looked over at his clock, which read 6:30 pm. He slept for a good 10 hours, although at the wrong time of day in America. With several cups of alcohol in his system, he had a bit of a headache and no desire to move.

The dark-haired man knew he had to get up some point. The perspiration from earlier receded into his hair. Likewise, he only had alcohol in his stomach. He desperately needed food and a shower. But half-naked in (mostly) clean sheets and not doing anything was more desirable. Bed warranted no action.

Sebastian decided to rest for another half-hour.

His mind shook off the stress of what he had to do, and began to go on a different tangent. Who was that man? The one who was on his mind before bed?

The man named Kavinsky. The man with gray hair, a red varsity jacket, and an old Ferrari. With an appearance and mysterious backstory like that, anyone would wonder about him.

Sebastian rolled onto his back, and sighed. He stared at the ceiling, and then at glanced down at his lower regions.

He already spent enough energy on Kavinsky the night before. He couldn’t get him out of mind easily. The DJ felt like a teenager again, who had spoken to their biggest crush and swore that they liked them back. It almost made him laugh that the man resembled a high school football player.

Sebastian couldn’t ignore the feeling in his gut. The DJ had to get a piece of him.

It didn’t help that Kavinsky seemed to be eager to be at his next show. Perhaps he could ask the man to spend the night with him.

But for now, he had an alternative. Sebastian decided to please himself. His hand slipped underneath his boxer shorts. He closed his eyes and let his imagination take over.

He imagined how it would feel if it were Kavinsky doing the act.  He could almost feel the man’s gloved hands around the DJ’s dick, his lips and teeth on Sebastian’s neck, hot breath on his skin. He could only imagine how he would moan... The DJ shuddered. That went quick.

“Fuck,” Sebastian whispered.  He realized his mess. “Now I _really_ need a shower.”

He rolled out of bed, and headed toward the bathroom.

The dark-haired man grunted as the freezing water pelted on him. He had to wash off those feelings. He had no true evidence that Kavinsky liked him back. It was never clear until the other person said “Yes”.

But Sebastian hoped he would.

               

* * *

 

Sebastian knew he could rent a car for his tour. But he only planned so far ahead. He only had so much American dollars with him- he had to stretch them as far as he could.

He couldn’t afford a car with his other needs, considering the cigarette crisis the night before.

For the most part, he had no problems with public transportation. Except he had two hours before his next show, and the taxi he called for never came.

Night fell quickly since his awakening. Sebastian motivated himself to get ready after he fell back asleep after his shower. He rushed his dinner of fried take-out food, as well as the thought of what his outfit would be. Soon enough, the DJ was ready to head out. He called a taxi, and went outside to wait for its arrival.

At least a half hour passed. The DJ’s patience wore thin.

The DJ grumbled to himself as he checked his phone for the umpteenth time. It was nearing 9 PM. When he told Kavinsky the show was at 11, he meant he would be on at the time. It would take him a good two hours to walk there.

Sebastian sighed and plopped himself on the curb of the hotel’s front area. Out of his coat pocket he plucked out one of Kavinsky’s cigarettes. _For good luck_ , the dark-haired man thought. He lit it and reveled in the smoke.

He continued to wait, but to no avail, he knew the taxi wouldn’t come. The DJ sighed again in defeat. It was a small bar, no big deal if he missed it. Barely anyone there knew who he was.

A familiar car rev echoed through the night. Sebastian raised his head. _It couldn’t be_ , he thought.

The DJ stood up, and looked on ahead to the buildings beyond the front parking lot. He looked up the roadway, and caught sight of the source.  The man’s cigarette fell out of his mouth. It was the Testarossa.

The red car pulled up to the curb and Sebastian dashed to it. The tinted window rolled down, revealing the gray-haired man. He wore a ravaged jean jacket this time, but over the shirt he wore the day before. _Strange_.

Before Kavinsky could make a comment, the pale man said, “Alright, you saved my ass again.”

The other man’s arm fell out the side of the car. A cigarette was in his fingers. “Really?”

“I called a damn taxi and it’s been an hour now.” Sebastian struggled not to smile too big. “I need you to give me a ride.”

“Well, good thing I came. Hop in.” He rolled the window back up as Sebastian ran to the other side.

The Mars-colored car drove away from the curb, and cruised on its journey.

 

On the drive there, the two stayed mostly silent. Sebastian remembered earlier, and felt like speaking wasn’t an option. He shifted in his seat. Only a couple hours ago, he jacked off to this man. Like his mode of transportation, he didn’t think ahead.

Kavinsky didn’t question his silence. The DJ was thankful for it.

* * *

 

The bar was in the outskirts of the city, like what Kavinsky said.

It was fairly small. The bar was surrounded by blown-out buildings. They needed a new coat of paint or some form of restoration, while this place was the opposite.  It looked fairly popular as many cars lined its parking lot. It would be a fairly packed show considering how small the bar looked.

Sebastian leaned against the car. He waited to speak until he heard the driver’s door slam. “So, why did you show up at my hotel? You said you were gonna be here.”

Kavinsky walked around and stood next to Sebastian. “I -um- forgot to tell you something yesterday.” The other man answered fast. “This place- it’s a hotspot for this gang.”

“Gang, huh?” Sebastian crossed his arms.

“They’ve been causing troubles for a long time now. This place is their meeting spot. Other kinds thugs go here too.”

The DJ thought for a moment. “So, you’re afraid I’m gonna get attacked or some shit?”

“No offence, but you look like the type who can’t stand in a fight.” The gray-haired man glanced at him for a moment. His voice was lower. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Was it the “yes” he was looking for? Not quite. But the jump in his gut indicated it was close. “Oh. I see.” Sebastian shifted his stance. “Well, they can’t be as bad as the crowd yesterday- I mean earlier.”

“Oh, they’re bad. But they won’t riot.” Kavinsky laughed at that. Sebastian laughed along, although a bit nervously.

The gray-haired man reached out at patted the DJ’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. They won’t hurt you. I promise.”

The move was oddly comforting. The DJ went on a different point.  “You know what? I’ll try to be a little different tonight. Maybe use a different sample…” Sebastian began to walk towards the venue.

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” Kavinsky said, following the man’s stride.

“Yeah.”

 --

There was a haze of heat set in the atmosphere. The place was dark and smelt of a mixture of smoke and alcohol. It was like every other place he’d played at. This time, the crowd wasn’t rioting, but drunken. They were mumbling amongst themselves, beverage in hand. They didn’t look like the ‘gang’ type, although they all looked like outcasts of society.

The equipment was standard, nothing special. The place only had a few of the vinyls he planned on using, which means he could put on a different show. Kavinsky was in for a treat. 

The show he played was fairly low-key since most of the people there had no idea who he was. It was a good change in pace. The crowd seemed to like it, but not as much as the gray-haired man did. He bobbed his head along, a smile on his face nearly the whole time.

Once every song or so, Sebastian looked up to see the man. He had to suppress a smile. His heart only yearned for Kavinsky more.

He had to ask. No use waiting for an answer to a question he didn’t ask.

               

After the show, the two met. They exchanged words about the show. The gray-haired man liked it still and kept praising his style and unique flavor.

Sebastian knew it was a good time to ask. His heart beat fast as he ran through his head for starters. “Hey Kav, do want to…” He trailed off.

“Yes?”

“Uh, would you like to come by my hotel? Like, hangout maybe?” He emphasized his point by nudging the man in the shoulder. Sebastian had no idea how else to say it. _‘Hey, wanna fuck later?’_ was too upfront for him.

Kavinsky answered immediately. “Sure, want to go now? I mean, you don’t need to stay, right?”

What sounded like a crowd of people, clapping and cheering played in the DJ’s brain. But his priorities came first. “Uh- yeah. I need a smoke.”

The gray-haired man snickered. “I know how much you like that.”

“Shut up. I’ll be back in like… 10 minutes.” The DJ said, patting the man’s shoulder. He walked away smiling. He had to get a smoke in before some good times happen.

 

Kavinsky watched the man out and grinned himself. He waltzed to the bar and ordered a tall glass of vodka. It’s not like it was going to impair him. In fact, it only enhanced his actions.

He would need it for nightly pursuits, after all.

* * *

 

Sebastian stood near the bar’s outside wall and began to smoke. There was chatter in the darkness, particularly in an open space in the parking lot. It was a group of five men. The DJ observed the group.

They were all in their early thirties, but with their large beer guts they seemed older. They had coordinated clothes- plaid and vests, and other graphic American attire like eagles and the national flag. They were all standing in a tight-knit circle taking swigs of their canned and bottled beer. Their voices were low, and their words carried a swear word every other sentence. If this was the gang Kavinsky warned him about, he was probably mistaken. One of them, noticed Sebastian. He was bald-headed and the largest of the group.

“Watchoo lookin’ at?” The bald man shouted. His buddies stopped speaking and looked in the DJ’s direction.

At first, the DJ was startled. He quipped, “You? No.” He swallowed. “Mind your own business.”

The bald man broke away from the group. Sebastian dropped his cigarette and ground it on the sidewalk. He backed up towards the wall.

The brute flung his face in front of Sebastian’s. “I am minding my own business. What about you?”

“I was having a smoke.” The pale man said. He stared right back, without falter. “Leave me alone.” He tried to alter his accent, but to no avail.

The man grunted and made his way back to his group, who were waiting intently.

Large tempers, and very rude. It was just like the stereotypes were. Kavinsky was probably the nicest out of all of them. These people were the least to be desired. “Fucking Americans.” Sebastian said under his breath.

The bald brute turned around fast. “What did you say?”

Would this weirdo not leave him alone? The DJ’s blood began to boil. “Fuck off.”

The man shoved Sebastian against the wall with a bare arm. “Do you want to mess with us?”

“No, leave me the fuck alone.” In response, the DJ pushed the man back with all of his strength.

The group hooted. Another man, whose arms were lined in tattoos, walked over to the DJ. “Hey, what’s the matter? Can’t say what you mean?” He said mockingly.

“If I did, you’d get pissed.” The dark haired man replied.

“I dare ya to say it.” The tattooed man said.

The boil became steam quickly. He was about done with these people. “Fuck off, you bunch of fuckwits.” Sebastian said, flipping them off with both hands.

Big mistake. It wasn’t a joke anymore as the thugs’s expression turned and encircled him.

The DJ made a move to head back inside. There was another thug behind him, who pushed him. Sebastian stumbled forward, into the path of the tattoo man. The ruffian threw a punch, in which gave him the sight of darkness and stars. He fell backward in shock. Next thing he knew, he was on the tar of the parking lot, facing up.

The thugs flanked him on all sides. The tattooed man put a hard boot on his chest and pushed down. He crouched down. “Do you think we’d let you get away with insulting us?”

“I just told you to fuck off.” Sebastian choked out. If he was to get beat up by these thugs- which seemed pretty imminent- he would go all the way with insults. “All of you are fucking trash. I’m glad now that I’m French so I won’t be compared to you assholes.”

The DJ smiled, although he regretted his actions. Anger flared up in the faces of the group. They kept true to their word.

* * *

 

It was taking Sebastian a long time to come back. Kavinsky swallowed the rest of his vodka. He glanced at the clock above the liquor rack. 15 minutes.

                The Dead Cruiser looked around him, and saw that there were less people in there than before. The possible troublemakers were gone. He felt an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

The gray-haired man made a promise. And if what was occurring outside was what he feared, it would be broken.

He intended to keep it.

Kavinsky pushed back from his seat at the bar. The bartender looked up from his work. His eyes widened as the gray-haired man slapped money on the counter.

The few patrons of the bar stared at the Dead Cruiser as he walked out.

* * *

 

Everything happened too fast.

The tattooed thug rammed his fist against the DJ’s face. In the space of a few seconds, a hard boot then cut into his side in a kick. On his other flank, another kick followed. It went back and forth until he rolled onto his side. The thugs didn’t stop as one of them kicked Sebastian again in the chest.

Once there was a break, Sebastian had time to process his pain, which was the least of his desires. His right ribcage throbbed. His nose scorched in pain. If a rib or his nose was broken, the adrenaline helped ease it- a bit.

He coughed, and felt warm liquid drop from his nose. He looked up, and saw two men look down on him. “What a dirty faggot.” A wad of spit landed on the DJ’s cheek. The dark-haired man was too hurt and tired out to fight back.

“Hey,” A demanding voice called. Sebastian couldn’t move his head to see who it was. Not unless he wanted to strain his battered body more.

 An impending silence stood between the new person and the thugs. It didn’t last long.

Hell broke loose.

* * *

 

Kavinsky looked down. Sebastian was curled up, and blood dripped from his nose. Heat boiled in his core. They couldn’t take away someone that reached out to him. No way in hell would he allow it.

“Is that your fag boyfriend?” The bald brute said aloud. Kavinsky looked back up. The thug continued, “Little bitch deserved it. He badmouthed us.” The group agreed. The brute moved close to his face. Kavinsky got a thick whiff of beer and a spray of spit. “What’cha gonna do about it?”

The Dead Cruiser didn’t speak nor hesitate his next move. His mind was made up already. He flung his fist into the bald man’s face. Blood came out of the brute’s nose instantly. He fell backward, into the arms of his comrades. He was in an immediate daze.

The group was just as surprised. Kavinsky cracked his knuckles.

The tattooed gang member broke away from the group. He roared as he brandished a beer bottle and smashed it against the Dead Cruiser’s head.

The attacker jumped back, his eyes wide. Kavinsky retained no damage. His sunglasses had fallen off during the blow. As he faced the group, the gang members looked into surging red eyes.

The tattooed thug said, “Shit, it’s the Dead Cruiser.”

\--

With the person named the “Dead Cruiser” distracting the thugs, Sebastian found time to retreat. On all fours, he crawled quickly out of the parking lot. Under his palms, he touched dirt and fallen leaves. He got onto his knees, and went towards a tree. He laid his back against it, and closed his eyes, his heart beating madly out of his chest.

 --

Kavinsky stepped forward, and the group backed off. The largest thug raised up, more pissed than earlier. The tattooed thug also stood firm alongside him. He pulled out a switchblade, and cocked his head at the bald man.

The thug went forward with a sprint, and pulled a punch. The Dead Cruiser grabbed the fist and threw his own into the man’s face.

The thug then grabbed his hand after its impact. Kavinsky sprang up and head-butted him. The bald thug stumbled back. He was done.

There wasn’t time to recover as the gray-haired man felt a singe of pain in his back. The tattooed thug stabbed at his back. He drew back as soon as the red-eyed man turned. The thug walked backward, baring the blade as Kavinsky advanced. Once the Dead Cruiser grabbed at his free arm, the thug swung the switchblade. The knife slid across the skin of Kavinsky’s cheek, which left a small red streak. The thug looked pleased until the Dead Cruiser took the attacking arm and pushed him over.

Kavinsky jabbed his knee into the abdomen of the gang member. Without hesitation, he wrapped his hands around the brute’s neck. The thug grimaced, and tried to claw off the attacker’s arms. Soon enough, he strained, “I give, stop!”

The Dead Cruiser listened and sat up, his knee still upon the gang member’s chest. His arms fell to his sides. “Where’s your money?”

“What?”

Kavinsky put a hand around his neck, poised to squeeze again. “Where is your money?”

The thug relaxed his arms and reached into his pants pocket. He threw out his wallet.   

The gray-haired man grabbed the wallet and got off of the man. He checked the contents as the brute got up and backed away. The gang members regrouped and watched as Kavinsky grabbed all of the loose change. He tossed the object at the group and turned away. “Beat it.” He snarled.

The group complied as they retreated without any words- they were beaten out of them.

Kavinsky found his sunglasses on the ground. He knelt down and put them on.

He looked up to see a few of the bar patrons who were watching as they left the building. He stood back up and paid them no heed. The civilians turned away immediately, and pretended they didn’t see what had occurred. Horror was stricken on their faces, and with the drops of blood on the blacktop, it was justified. The Dead Cruiser expected some sort of new report later. He smirked at his thoughts.

But Kavinsky heard a moan nearby. He recollected what his original goal was.

He looked to where Sebastian retreated, and ran towards the man.

Sebastian had closed his eyes and breathed heavily. He heard some voices- but the throbbing of his heart was all he could make out.  He tensed up when he heard footsteps. The DJ only relaxed when he heard a familiar voice call for him. “Seb, you alright?”

He opened his eyes to the sight of Kavinsky, who knelt down to his level. There was blood on his cheek. The man was in the fight. “Define ‘OK’.” The DJ replied. “What about you?”

Kavinsky felt his back. “I’m fine.” He got nearer to the man. “Nothing broken?”  Sebastian could see steam escape his lips, and smelt alcohol on his breath. Oh how he wanted the man to get closer to him… But the DJ could see the worry in the man. He had to comply.

“They -ow- kicked me in my rib. It hurts.” Sebastian choked out as he squirmed. Kavinsky wrapped an arm around the man to help him sit up. “I don’t know if it’s broken.”

The man said, “Let me see if you’re swollen.” The DJ nodded and raised his left arm. The gray-haired man un-zipped Sebastian’s jacket. He then lifted the man’s t-shirt up, exposing his skin to the cold night air.

“Ah.” Sebastian let out, looking away. Kavinsky then proceeded to touch him to where the thugs struck him. He glided his fingers along his skin, his thumb caressing the injured areas. The DJ shivered.

It was sweet pain- with the sting of the injury, and the tickle of the contact. The DJ derived much pleasure from it. This was the first time they touched this way- though not so intimately. Kavinsky drew back and covered the other man up. “No, it’s just bruised. You’re just gonna be purple there for a few days.”

“Um- ok.” Sebastian still ached all over, but considering his ribcage being only bruised, it was all nothing.

“Let’s head back. The police might show up and--The gray-haired man paused--I don’t think they’ll help.” He reached his hand out to the DJ and helped him up.

Kavinsky wrapped Sebastian’s arm about his shoulders to support him. “Here, lean on me.” The dark-haired man in turn nodded. The two, in arms, walked back to the Testarossa, headed home.

 

* * *

 

They arrived at the hotel later in silence.

The room was dark and Sebastian wanted to keep it that way. He crawled onto his bed and laid there. His body still hurt, but having a soft bed is much better than lying on the parking lot. His breathing relaxed and his muscles untwined.

Kavinsky opened the curtains to the sliding door leading to a balcony. There was plenty of light outside, although artificial. He stared out of it, seemingly looking for words. But he was silent.

There he was, in his hotel bedroom. It’s what Sebastian wanted. But he knew at this point, he won’t get exactly what he wants. There was something more important.

“They called you the Dead Cruiser. What is that supposed to mean?”

Kavinsky was still silent. He turned around, a shadow cast over him. His voice was low. “Seb, you remember what I told you last night? About me being dead?” He crossed his arms.

Why would he bring this up? The dark-haired man had a new feeling in his gut- realization. He didn’t believe it, but deep down, he did, as crazy as it was.

Hell, he had to believe Kavinsky. He gave Sebastian his time, attention and cigarettes. That’s enough for him to trust anyone.

The DJ sat up. “You didn’t make that up?”

The silhouette of the man shook his head.

Kavinsky couldn’t be dead. No, he touched the DJ. He was solid. Nor was he a rotting corpse. He was some other thing, like he said earlier. “W-what are you?”

“I’m the Dead Cruiser. That’s what they call me.” Kavinsky walked towards the bed and plopped on it. He sighed.

Sebastian saw a hole in the jacket the man wore. Although obscured, it was a large hole. The pale man reached out and touched it. He didn’t feel any liquid, only punctured skin.

“Holy shit _._ ” Sebastian uttered. He was right.

Kavinsky turned his head. “Those men who attacked you- I know them. They’ve been around before I died.”

The DJ wanted to comment, but stayed quiet. He had to listen for once. If Kavinsky was telling the truth about his death, what he was going to say had to be important.

“There was this guy- his name was Ross. He had a group of friends who would pester anyone lower than them. Ross led them. They were the bullies of my school. No one liked them much. I sure as hell didn’t. He and his friends would beat me up on a weekly basis.” He laughed at that.

He continued on, “In 1986, my last year in high school, I died. After that, I didn’t get involved with anyone else. But, Ross did something I couldn’t excuse.” He faced Sebastian fully. His eyes glowed red for a second. “I beat the living shit out of him and helped get him arrested.” He turned back around, and fiddled with his gloves. “I haven’t seen him since. I’ve had some run-ins with his cronies, but no Ross.”

The DJ guessed the red eyes was a subset of his immortality. “He probably spent time. Well, probably still is.” Sebastian finally said.

“Well, it’s been about 20 years now, Seb. This little attack made me think.”

“What? That he’ll come back?” Sebastian replied. “And attack us?”

“It’s a large possibility. That’s why I’m worried.”

The dark-haired man thought for a moment and rubbed the injured part of his chest. If these people were out there- and knew this man- no doubt they’d be after them. Sebastian thought of a plan.

“Hey, I’m only gonna tour for another two weeks. I’ll end in LA. If it isn’t a problem…” The DJ inched closer to the man. “Could you watch my back?”

“Like what?”

The DJ felt his heart beat fast again. “Drive me places and make sure I don’t get killed.” He looked away. “You fought them off single-handedly. You’re… Whatever the hell you are, but you can’t get injured. And, I’d like for some native to help me out in this crazy fucking country.”

Kavinsky sneered. “And become your bodyguard?”

Sebastian nodded. He wished that the man couldn’t hear his heart beat out of his chest. Was he going to say it?

“I will.”

Close enough.

* * *

The gang members all exited their giant SUV, all grumbling, and broken. The group of five shuffled through an empty backstreet. They were a good distance away from the bar, but not too far.

The bald thug jumped ahead, leading the group. “C’mon you losers. Maybe there’s some ice or some shit in there.”

The tattooed thug barked, “Shut the fuck up, Alex. You’ve been complainin’ since…”

“It fuckin’ hurts, Keith. Don’t you tell me shit.” The bald thug had his fingers near his nose. They were bloodied, but he was lucky his nose wasn’t broken.

“Hey, why the hell is Rev there?” One of them said. He pointed ahead; at the abandoned garage they called their lair.

The group of five looked up. A man in a leather biker jacket stood at the entrance to their meager hideout. He was waiting with his hands in his pockets. He spotted the group, and walked toward them.

Alex charged up to him. He wanted to say something, but he already knew.

“He’s back.” Rev said. He cocked his head towards the door. “He came in earlier. He’ll explain.” The man turned and headed towards the garage.

The five gang members looked at each other before heading in, all of them walking at a slower pace.

* * *

 

“Well it’s about damn time you all showed up.” A ragged man said. He had grizzly cut facial hair, greasy hair underneath an old trucker hat, and a black eye. He had clothes that reeked of a cheap second-hand shop, which were also ragged. “I thought you guys were gonna throw me a party.”

He sat on a folding chair in the edge of the garage interior. A single light bulb was lit above him, which showed the shadows of his features. He was intimidating, to say the least.

Half of the group went over to the pool table and set it up for a game. The other three stood near the ragged man. They had to explain what occurred. All but Rev were downcast.

Keith was the first to speak up. “Ross, we thought you weren’t gettin’ out for another year.”

Alex added, “Yeah, how the hell did you get out?”

“Let’s just say I got fuckin’ lucky.” Ross held up his hands. He then stood up. “So what the hell took you guys- oh.” He looked his fellow gang members up and down. The criminal cackled loudly. “You guys got beat up? Oho- how lame!”

The two thugs shifted their stance. Their eyes were dejected.

Alex said, “It was him, Ross.”

“Who?”

Keith finished it. “The Dead Cruiser. Listen- we just beat up some twink because he called us- well, it was Alex who started it.”

The bald man next to him elbowed him hard. “Shut up, he called us trash.”

“Hey-hey, shut the fuck up. Both of you.” Ross shouted. His voice lowered. “Now- who? Please tell me I didn’t hear what I just did?”

Rev spoke up. “The Dead Cruiser.”

“That fuckin’ douche?”  Ross laughed again, although more forced. He ran his hands through his hair, and sat back down. A heavy silence filled the room for a time. Within seconds, his face contorted from sarcasm to pure rage. The ragged man bared his teeth, and clenched his fist. The other gang members stepped back.

Ross sprang up and kicked his chair over. The metal clattered over the concrete floor, which echoed through the small garage. The players at the pool table paused. Ross turned to the other gang members, and shouted, “You know how long I was in jail? Twenty fucking years. And you know why?”

Everyone, even Rev was silent.

“Because of that man. The Dead-fucking-Cruiser.”

Rev decided to speak. “Ross, tell them.”

Ross took a deep breath. He couldn’t be mad for long. Not with what he had in mind. “Oh, right. I almost forgot.” A devilish smile formed. He hopped atop a wooden box and looked around the garage. “So, do you guys hate this douche too or what?”

“Yeah. He’s invincible.” Alex said.

“He thinks he’s so good.” A lower thug said. “Of course.”

“He took my money.” Keith uttered.

Ross put his hands together. “So this douche is invincible? That’s right. We can’t possibly kill him. But that’s ok. Tell me, what is worse than death?”

They all saved their wisecracks for themselves. As a result, no one spoke.

Ross answered for them. “Two words: Emotional turmoil. Now, I hate saying it like that, but it’s true. I’ve seen it in jail. These guys were in a living hell.”

“So what?” Alex said.

“We take _everything_ \- everything he gives a damn about.” Ross said in a low growl.

“Like what? His stupid car?” Keith said.

 “Not just his car, but the people his still likes.” He pointed a finger at the tattooed thug, and then turned to his right-hand man. “Rev, remember in high school- that girl he went out with?”

“Catherine? She still lives here.” Rev said. He was essentially the informant of the group. No one suspected him of being with Ross, which allowed him to get info from anyone. “She’s married to a cop. His name is Jonathan Barracks.”

“Yeah I know- he arrested me.” Ross had no anger in his face, only annoyance.

Keith stepped in, “Wait, the Dead Cruiser beat us up over this twink. Yeah, didn’t he, Alex?”

The big brute nodded. “He must like ‘im. Usually he’d try to scare us off. He beat us good.”

Ross’s right-hand-man asked, “Appearance?”

The tattooed brute answered, “Black hair. Weird accent. Pale as fuck. Looks like an emo.”

Rev tried to match the description. “Ah. He’s a French DJ named Sebastian. I heard about him.” He turned to Ross. “It could be a fling, or friendship. Either way- he’s a good prospect.”

Ross put his hands together and rubbed them. He had a large grin on his face. “So- we go after his old girlfriend, his stupid Ferrari, and his little fuck-buddy.” His eyes swept the interior of the garage. Even the lower thugs were listening in. “We take them and he has nothing to live for. He’ll live forever- _hating himself_. His smile evolved into a crazy one. “A fate worse than death.” Ross glanced at everyone. “We’ll be able to live as we please without this fucker ratting on us.” The criminal jumped off the wooden box and shouted, “So- who’s in?”

The gang members shouted and raised their fists in the air. Everyone was in it for the long run. As soon as they were done, the thugs departed for the pool table for a real game.

Rev walked beside Ross. He whispered, “What do you have in mind?”

Ross crossed his arms. “A visit to Barracks.”

His right-hand man said, “Makes sense. Officer Barracks is with Highway Patrol. Kavinsky likes racing with them.”

“I know.” Ross growled, “We have a common enemy. That’s why I’m paying him a visit.”

“Twenty years in the making.”

“I’ll make him pay for more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my beta readers asked why Kav wanted the thug's money.  
> ...How else is he supposed to pay for those cigarettes? I think he used to break into stores and get them, but the police already hounded him enough for that, so...
> 
> Also for now on, it's gonna get gayer... (And the plot is now in motion too)


	4. ANNOUNCEMENT- Chapter 4 placeholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you readers!! This is my first go at a long fanfic, and so far it's been pretty enjoyable. I'll try my best to finish what I started.

So it's been a couple of months since I posted a chapter...

Have no fear! I have no reason to drop this story. I have it planned out (with some issues, which I will explain in a second) and I really want to finish this. ~~And get to the sexy bits~~

But there's some obstacles and roadblocks along with working on this chapter:

-I scrapped the plans to two chapters and had to think of new ideas of which to implement. ...Which took a week. Well, it's gonna be even more interesting than I thought.

-In a freak bluescreen incident I also lost the first draft to the chapter, so I had to basically re-start the chapter, and I'm losing motivation because this chapter is fairly uneventful. Every one afterword is gonna be fairly action packed. I just want to move on to the other chapters, y'know?

-FINALS are also around the corner, which is killing me slowly with how much I have to do. So I have to postpone work again, sadly. 

 

I wanted to give you guys an insight to the chapter without being spoiler-y, so I'll give you this:

Nachos. 

Interpret that as you will. 

 

Thank you all for reading my humble fanfic, and sorry for the delay! More Sebinsky coming your way soon!

 

NOTE: THIS ILL BE TAKEN DOWN WHEN THE CHAPTER IS READY FOR POSTING

 


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